Kalem took a step back, exhaling as he surveyed the battlefield. His hands tightened around his weapons, but for the moment, he needed to pause—to analyze, to recover.
The fight had been relentless, and while he had cut down dozens, the sheer numbers of the abyssal creatures were greater than he had anticipated.
He wasn't unaccustomed to large battles—he had experience fighting against Galgameth hordes, creatures that usually attacked in packs of fifty or sixty. But this?
This was hundreds, if not thousands.
A different kind of war.
"You alright?" Garron's voice cut through the haze of battle.
Kalem exhaled, adjusting his stance. "Yes. I underestimated the numbers a bit."
Garron chuckled. "Of course. You also wasted too much power, relying on chanting to execute your techniques."
Kalem arched a brow. "And that means you don't have to?"
Garron smirked. "Don't look down on your senior."
With a casual motion, he drew his sword, and without uttering a single word, executed a series of slashes—each precise, devastating, and infused with mana, yet requiring no verbal trigger.
Kalem observed the display with sharp eyes.
"I see."
Garron blinked. "That's all?"
Kalem tilted his head. "What?"
"You just say 'I see' and that's the end of it?" Garron scoffed, shaking his head. "Most recruits would be losing their minds seeing this for the first time."
Kalem shrugged. "It's impressive, but not entirely unexpected."
Garron folded his arms. "Oh? And why's that?"
Kalem gestured toward the battlefield, where other veteran warriors were doing the same thing—wielding enchanted weapons, unleashing techniques without uttering a single word.
"Because it's possible."
Garron let out a laugh. "Hah! You're an odd one, brat."
Before their conversation could continue, a voice called out over the battlefield.
"Backline, switch places with the frontline!"
Commander Varik's order was absolute. The resting troops—including Kalem and Garron—were now being called forward to replace the exhausted fighters at the front.
Kalem rolled his shoulders. "Well then, what do you have in mind?" Garron asked.
Kalem glanced at the battlefield. The abyssal creatures were swarming, but they weren't heavily armored. Their numbers were their greatest strength—but numbers could be neutralized.
"Most of these things are lightly armored," Kalem noted. "So fire should be good."
Garron nodded. "Yeah, that would be good—but we don't have a mage in our contingent."
"I know," Kalem replied.
"Then, how are you planning to do that, brat?" Garron narrowed his eyes. Then, as if realizing something, his expression twisted. "No, no, no, don't tell me—"
Kalem cut him off. "No, it's not what you're thinking. I'm not a sword-mage."
He reached into his crate, pulling out a light greatsword.
"This one," Kalem murmured, inspecting the blade. He seemed dissatisfied and placed it back, grabbing another.
Garron raised a brow. "What are you doing?"
"Finding the right one," Kalem said simply.
Then, after selecting a different weapon, he stepped forward.
The abyssal creatures surged forward, sensing new prey in the form of fresh warriors. Their hollow eyes locked onto Kalem as he raised his sword.
Then—it began.
Glowing red runes ignited along the blade's surface, spreading like wildfire. Within moments, the entire sword was engulfed in flames, heat distorting the air around it.
The creatures hesitated.
Even they, mindless beasts as they were, felt it—the surge of power, the overwhelming heat.
Kalem's grip tightened. This was what he had been waiting for.
He exhaled.
Then, he moved.
Kalem lunged forward, his flaming blade arcing through the air like a blazing comet. The moment it made contact, the first creature erupted into fire.
It didn't even have time to scream—its body blackened instantly, crumbling into smoldering remains before hitting the ground.
The creatures behind it hesitated—but not for long. Their abyssal instincts drove them forward, mindless of the flames that devoured their kin.
Kalem welcomed their charge.
He pivoted on his heel, sweeping his greatsword in a wide horizontal arc. The flames extended beyond the blade's physical reach, forming a crescent of fire that cleaved through half a dozen enemies in a single stroke.
More creatures lunged—Kalem twisted his body, using the momentum to bring the sword over his shoulder and down in a devastating vertical slash.
The ground beneath him sizzled as the flames scorched deep into the earth, turning the surrounding area into a burning wasteland.
Still, the monsters came.
A massive, armored beast—a tier above the others—lunged at him, its thickly plated limbs crashing toward his position.
Kalem met its attack head-on.
He dashed forward, ducking beneath its swing, and brought his sword upward in a fierce rising slash. The enchanted flames coiled and condensed, creating an intense burst of heat concentrated on a single point—
And then—
The blade burned through the armor like molten steel through ice.
The beast let out a guttural shriek, its body splitting apart from the force of the blow. Flames consumed its corpse before it even hit the ground.
Kalem did not stop.
He pressed forward, weaving through the battlefield with deadly grace. His every step left a trail of fire, his blade turning into a relentless executioner of the abyssal horde.
But then—
A monstrous roar.
Kalem's gaze snapped upward—his instincts screamed danger.
A colossal beast, nearly twice the size of the others, came barreling toward him. Unlike the previous creatures, this one was heavily armored, its dark chitin reflecting the glow of the flames.
Kalem shifted his stance.
"If fire alone isn't enough…" he muttered.
He adjusted his grip on the sword.
Then, he pushed more mana into the blade.
The flames darkened—no longer a bright orange, but a deep crimson, almost blood-red.
The heat intensified. Even Garron, standing several feet away, felt the shift in temperature.
Kalem dashed forward.
The chitin-armored beast roared, sensing the approaching threat. It raised one of its limbs to crush him—
Kalem vanished from its sight.
A flash of red.
Then—
A single slash.
The fire didn't just burn—it seared through the thick armor, carving straight through the creature's torso as if it were made of paper.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then—
The beast collapsed.
Its entire upper half slid off its lower half, severed cleanly by Kalem's strike. The flames continued to consume the remains, ensuring that nothing would be left behind.
Kalem exhaled, lowering his sword.
Garron stared at him, wide-eyed.
"You sure you're not a sword-mage?" he asked.
Kalem smirked. "I just forge better weapons."
End of the Skirmish
With their numbers thinned, the remaining abyssal creatures retreated—not out of strategy, but pure survival instinct.
The Gehenna warriors regrouped, reinforcing their positions.
Kalem wiped the sweat from his brow, his body still thrumming with heat from his own weapon.
Garron clapped him on the shoulder. "That was insane, brat."
Kalem sheathed his sword, his expression unreadable. "It was necessary."
Garron grinned. "Still… you might just survive this place after all."
Kalem said nothing.
He didn't fight for survival.
He fought to win.